Ilse Witch

Walker brought them to a halt with a hand signal and stood staring into the tangle of half walls and partitions to where the obelisk sat like a watchtower, its blinking light a vigilant eye. Bek searched the ruins about them, his uneasiness newly heightened. Nothing moved. He turned back to Walker. The Druid was still studying the obelisk. It was clear that he sensed the possibility of a trap, but equally clear that he believed he must step into it.

Ryer Ord Star bent close to Bek. “It is the entrance we seek,” she whispered. Her breathing was quick and anxious. “The door to the tower opens into Castledown. The keys he carries fit the door’s lock.”

Bek stared at her, wondering how she knew this, but she was staring at the Druid, the boy already forgotten.

Walker turned. His eyes were troubled and his face bore a resigned look. “Wait here for me.” His voice was so low that Bek could barely hear him. He gestured at the Elven Hunters. “All of you.”

He straightened and signaled to Quentin and Panax on his left and Ard Patrinell on his right to remain where they were.

Alone, he started toward the tower.

The Ilse Witch walked the deck of the Jerle Shannara, making certain all of the Rovers were asleep. One by one, she checked them, then signaled for Cree Bega to come1 aboard and ordered him to send one of his Mwellrets below to search for anyone she might have missed. The chosen ret disappeared down the hatchway and returned again in only moments, shaking his head.

She nodded, satisffied. It had been easier than she had thought. “Take them below and lock them in the storerooms,” she ordered, dismissing Cree Bega with a gesture. “Separate them.”

She walked to the pilot box and climbed up to stand next to the big Rover slumped over the controls. She stood in the box and stared out over the length and breadth of the captured airship, taking in its look and feel. A sleek and able vessel, she saw. Quicker and more maneuverable than her own. Mwellrets were swarming over the sides of Black Moclips to haul the sleeping Rovers belowdecks. She watched them without interest. The magic of her wishsong had overcome the Rovers before they knew what was happening. Not expecting it or able to fight it and without the Druid to ward them, they had been powerless. Her spy had provided her with a link to the Jerle Shannara from the beginning, and it was easy enough to get close once she was through the Squirm. Using the wishsong to put the unsuspecting crew to sleep was child’s play. Transforming her magic to sound like the wind, soft and lulling and irresistible, was all it took.

Even getting past the ice pillars was not much of a challenge, although it required a little inventiveness. Choosing to avoid that approach completely, she used her magic to harness one of the Shrikes that nested on the outer cliffs, mounted it, and had it fly them over the top. Even with the heavy fog, she was able to guide Black Moclips without too much risk. The Shrike was a native and knew its way in and out of the mountains well. The winds were tricky, but not so much so that the airship couldn’t manage them. She had no idea how Walker had managed to navigate the pillars, believing his own magic, while powerful in some ways, not sufficiently adaptable for this. Her spy hadn’t been able to communicate that information. Not that it mattered. Both of them had made it through. They were still on course for their confrontation.

Except that now, for the first time, she had the upper hand. He was ashore and marooned there, even if he didn’t realize it yet. Without the use of an airship, he was helpless to escape her. Sooner or later, she would track him down, either on foot or from the air. The only question that remained to be answered was whether she would get to him before the thing that waited in the ruins did.

Even in this, she had an advantage the Druid did not. She knew what the thing was. Or more to the point, what it wasn’t. She had gone inside Kael Elessedil’s ruined mind to discover why he had been lost for thirty years. By doing so, she had seen through his eyes what it was that had captured him. She had witnessed the tearing out of his tongue and the gouging out of his eyes. She had witnessed the uses to which he had been put. Walker knew none of this. If he wasn’t careful, he might come to the same end. That would achieve her goal of destroying him, but cheat her of the personal satisfaction she would derive by seeing him die at her hands.

Yes, Walker would have to be very careful. The thing that had lured them here was patient and its reach was long. It was dangerous in ways she had not encountered before. So she would have to be careful, too. But she was always careful, always on guard against the unexpected. She had trained herself to be so.

Cree Bega sidled up to her. “The little peopless are all ssafely locked away,” he hissed.

“Leave five of your rets to make sure they stay that way,” she o1rdered. “Commander Kett will assign two of his crew to watch over the ship. The rest of us will take the Black Moclips after those already ashore.”

I’m coming for you, Druid, she thought triumphantly. Can you feel me getting close?